


It's going to be good.

by DuckGWR



Series: Fanficton on every operating system I own [1]
Category: The Yogscast
Genre: M/M, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-07
Updated: 2013-08-07
Packaged: 2017-12-22 16:16:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/915336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DuckGWR/pseuds/DuckGWR
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Never let me near a MacBook.</p><p>Yogs AU where Nilesy and Panda are teenagers, working out some things. Extremely OOC. Just over 1150 words. Not much backstory because I couldn't settle on one I liked, so make up your own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's going to be good.

**Author's Note:**

> this is sin
> 
> and i cant even make a Sindows pun because i wrote it on Mac 9.1

You are faced with a rather large, mahogany door. You are not really sure what brought you here. You imagine you must have called his place, come over, and been ushered down the hall, but honestly, who knows. You could be here on someone’s request, or of your own accord. All you know is at some point you dropped everything to get over here.

You look down at your right hand, which you subconsciously moved to the brass handle. Twisting the handle left, you move your right shoulder up and out, so it is pushing the door open.

Entering the room, you find that the overhead light is off. Instinctively, you look to your left. From whatever past experiences you had in this room, you know there is a wall to the right of the door frame and a desk on the left up against the wall. You gaze over the hundreds of papers and old toys and random cartridges for ancient video games strewn around the desk. The usual office chair is gone, and so is the table lamp usually housed there. Over farther, past the desk, is another huge pile. This one mainly consists of what looks to be months worth of food trash.

Moving your head around, you are greeted with a bed, much too large for the room. There is a rather nice foot board at the edge of the bed. You lower your gaze down to the foot of the bed, so your line of sight is even with the end of the duvet cover. Sweeping your gaze along the cover, you are interrupted by a pair of red sneakers. Traveling up the pair of legs, you reach the knees of the person’s pants. His elbows are rested on his knees, his lower left arm draped over to grasp his right elbow, his right dangling lazily underneath. Up more, and his face breaks your heart. His black hair is unkept beyond belief, dangling over his face. Under his thick lenses, his eyes are staring right into yours. His mouth is a thin line, the left side tilted up to the slightest degree. Somehow, this simple expression explains everything.

“Hey.” No response.

Walking forward, to the right of the foot board, you place your left hand on the back end of the foot board, push down, and bring your feet and legs up and over the foot board. Back to back now, you move to the left up the bed, and move your legs so your feet are up against the foot board. Sitting up slightly, you grab the boy by his shoulders from behind, and pivot his back so you can easily reach it. You bring your arms back to your sides, and rub your hands together.

“Ah shit Niles, what am I going to do with you.”

Warily, you bring your hands back up to his shoulders. You bring your hands closer to his neck, palms down, and begin caressing his shoulders. There is no reaction to your rough touch, but the longer you continue the constant movement of your fingers and hands, the more you feel him curve into your touch.

You remove your hands, place them palms down on the sheets, and shimmy yourself back until your lower back hits the pillows at the head of the bed, and you lie back to lay flat on the bed. You bring your hands back up to the man, this time grasping his upper arms. You begin to pull his arms back and down, effectively bringing his upper back to your lower chest and his head to your upper chest. You reach up to his face with your right hand, grab his glasses by the frame with your thumb, pointer, and middle fingers, and pull them off his nose. You bring them down, and balance them on his right thigh.

You bring your left hand back to your side, and your right back up to rest on his chest.

“Do you remember the day we met? In the primary school on Jefferson? We were in kindergarten, I was 6 and you were 5? We were on the back playground, and it was time to go in for lunch? You weren't goin’ in, ‘cause you found a mud puddle, and you were digging down into it?

“You remember that, right Nilesy?

“Everybody else ran inside, but you kept digging that hole. What were you doin, Niles?

“I was the only other kid on the playground, ‘cause all the other kids didn't pay any attention to you. But I ran over, and I grabbed your shoulder, and I turned you around away from that hole, and all you did was look up into my eyes. And I walked with you all the way to the classroom to get our lunches, and I grabbed my Thomas the Tank Engine lunchbox, and when I looked over you were stood in front of your backpack looking down at your feet. And I asked you where your lunchbox was, and you said you didn't have one. And I grabbed your arm again, and I walked you down to the lunchroom, and we were looking for a table because they were all taken. So we sat on the stairwell leading up to the stage in the back of the lunchroom, and we ate food. I hardly knew your name Nilesy, but we shared lunch.

“Remember Nilesy? Remember that?”

For the longest time, you are both silent. You take to looking at the bland ceiling, remembering how you met the boy now laying against you.

After what must have been twenty minutes of pure silence, you feel movement on your chest. Looking down, you see the boy is gazing up at you, his head tilted up and to the right to meet your gaze.

“You had both eyes then, Panda.”

This completely takes you aback. He never acknowledged that you had lost use of one of your eyes, not even right after it happened. Subconsciously, you bring your left arm away from your side, extend your middle and pointer fingers, and trace over the deep line that you have memorized over time. In your slight daze, the boy brings his body farther up on yours, so he can reach up and back with his arm to play with the ears on your panda hat.

“I remember, ‘cause when you turned me around and I looked into your eyes, all I saw was your care for others. You were some random kid in my class, and you cared enough to get me off that playground and give me food. I hardly knew you, but all I had to do was look at your eyes, and I knew you would take care of me, and that you cared even though you really didn't have to.

“It’s going to be good, Nilesy, It’s going to be good.”

**Author's Note:**

> Part one of my somewhat ongoing quest to write fanfiction on every operating system I own. Mac 9.1 is down.
> 
>  
> 
> My only defense is it was 3 AM and I didn't have a G or H key.
> 
>  
> 
> Also I wanted to try second-person POV.  
> Minor revisions on 10/4/15


End file.
